The Mercy Corps Blog

Blog Post Posted November 16, 2009, 6:50 am by Bija Gutoff

Every child should be in the picture

Photo: Bija Gutoff/Mercy Corps

In Parker Town, Gbarpolu County, in the north of Liberia where Mercy Corps has a number of agriculture programs, I rounded up these children for a group portrait.

I guided the older ones to stand in back and brought the smaller ones to the front. This everyday exercise, where we live (as a mother, how many times have I heard my own daughter or her friends grumble about the obligatory group photo?), seemed to be an entirely new experience for these kids.

Still, like children everywhere, they quickly got the idea, and a few were soon posing and posturing. Each child is so different. The thumbs-up boy in the blue t-shirt seemed a natural leader. The girl in the turquoise v-neck dress had an intensely frank and honest look about her. The one in bright green was so open and friendly. And the littlest ones, though a bit wary, were eager to take their place up front.

Every child wanted to be in the picture. And that's the way it should be: every child should be in the picture. Each one can grow up to make a contribution to Liberia's recovery, if they simply get the essentials: nutritious food, a decent education, a chance.

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Blog Post Posted November 15, 2009, 10:14 pm by Leah Hazard

A little here and there can add up to a lot

There are a lot of important ways to support Mercy Corps — from donations in the midst of an emergency to monthly givers who support our work all year long. But there are a lot of less obvious ways to support Mercy Corps that can add up to a whole lot — especially if all of our supporters get involved:

• Shop Amazon? Bookmark this link right now and use it every time you shop. We’ll receive 4% to 8.5% of the purchase price, depending on order volume.
• Shop Powells.com using this link and Mercy Corps will receive 7.5% of the purchase price.
• Cafegive allows you to purchase from a variety of online stores while donating a percentage of your purchase to support Mercy Corps’ work. Simply follow the instructions and choose Mercy Corps as your cause.
• Indonique Tea and Chai: 10% of every purchase of tea is donated to Mercy Corps to fund programs that positively impact the communities where their teas are picked.
• Coffee Bean International: Buy a pound of Cafe Aldea Nicaragua — a delicious single-origin coffee grown in the remote mountains of northern Nicaragua — and $2 will go to fund projects run by Mercy Corps' local partner.
• Purchase sustainable apparel from Rahzo and select Mercy Corps upon checkout to receive a donation for your purchase.

Share the links with family and friends. They can help the Mercy Corps mission just by remembering us as they shop. I can’t help but think if all Mercy Corps supporters remembered did this, the impact could be huge.

**Updated: I forgot to mention our partnership with NAU. Nau.com is a key Mercy Corps supporter. From 11/24 through 12/01, Nau will offer customers 30% off merino wool and wool sweaters while directing 10% of sales to their Partners for Change, including Mercy Corps. The promo code is "GIVE".

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Blog Post Posted November 15, 2009, 4:30 am by Bija Gutoff

Grow what you eat, eat what you grow

Photo: Bija Gutoff/Mercy Corps

It's so lush here, it's seems like every plant would grow, and grow hearty, all on its own. But of course, like anything, there's an art and a science to successful agriculture. To get the highest yields from their crops and gardens, Liberian farmers are learning new techniques from Mercy Corps.

We visited a demonstration garden in Vaye Town, Gbarpolu County, where women and men are making their own compost, seasoning it with a touch of a local plant that naturally repels nematodes and using it to mulch their vegetables. They're getting more sweet potatoes by planting a single spud in each mound.

They've also learned to plant each kind of vegetable – cassava, corn, okra, cowpeas (beans) and groundnuts (peanuts) – in its own row or mound, so they can create and monitor the conditions in which it grows best.

In a land this fertile, it makes sense to focus on agriculture as the main development vehicle, as "President Ellen" has done. Mercy Corps is working with Liberian farmers to coax their next meal – and all the meals of their future – out of the ground.

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Blog Post Posted November 14, 2009, 3:17 am by Bija Gutoff

These children play with nothing, anything, everything

Photo: Bija Gutoff/Mercy Corps

Today the palaver (meeting) hut was full of children as we began our visit to Parker Town, Gbarpolu County, Liberia. In fact, I think there were more children than adults. They followed us around as we toured the village, by turns curious and boisterous and cranky and shy, just like children everywhere. The little boy in this photo that I've posted here kept catching my eye and grinning. A couple of times he ducked behind the post, then popped out with his huge sparkling grin, delighted with that small bit of peek-a-boo.

What makes these children smile? One of the few "toys" I saw was an old, retired cassava grater that had been reimagined as a tiny car. With a bit of string, this tin can has managed to fire a small child's imagination.

What does it take to fire ours? I watch these children who have so little, and I'm amazed again and again at the ease of their smiles. Just a little shy at first, they glom onto me as soon as I reach out my hand or crouch down to say hello. Each one offers a handshake, a grin, or a tummy awaiting a tickle. They touch my hair, my arm, my camera bag, my pants. They jostle to get closer.

An old cassava grater, re-imagined by local children as a tiny toy car. Photo: Bija Gutoff/Mercy Corps

I want people to know about Liberia and, more important, to care about Liberia. The women and men I have met are warm and friendly. Greetings are important: each person takes the time to shake hands, offer the traditional "How da body?" or its local dialect equivalent, to look me in the eyes and smile and say, "You are welcome here."

It's a more sincere connection than I often encounter back home, and I'm struck that we could learn a thing or two about courtesy and respect from the Liberian people.

The land itself is lush and green. The coconuts and bananas and papayas and "pam" (palm) nuts evidence a natural abundance that could help transform people's lives. Here, amid grinding poverty, the women and men are working hard to learn new and better ways of supporting themselves through farming, business skills and education.

Bit by bit, they're getting stronger. But they desperately need our help. My notebook is full of sights, sounds and impressions, and I'm eager to share them with you in hopes that you'll begin to care about these lively, lovely people.

But when I saw this boy's smile, I wanted to do everything I can to help.

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Blog Post Posted November 13, 2009, 1:56 pm by Bija Gutoff

'How da body?'

Photo: Bija Gutoff/Mercy Corps

Pounding rain, deep red mud...and a hundred smiles.

We've been bouncing over the worst roads I've ever seen. Adolphus, our driver, seems to think he's at the Indy 500. If another car tries to pass him, he speeds up — in the broiling heat, I've kept the window down (the AC is broken), but I've learned to roll it up really fast when a huge muddy puddle looms...or when another car passes.

We are visiting villages so poor, the children literally have nothing to do. There are no toys, no books, no games, not much to eat.

As a mother, it's hard to see poverty so deep. I hug and tickle and make funny faces at every child I see. Their initial shyness disappears in an instant. Liberians are friendly people, and as soon as you offer the expected greeting — "How da body?" — they instantly relax into a warm, open greeting.

Everywhere I look, there are children laughing and playing. You wonder, how is this possible? And yet it's just the spirit this desperately poor country needs to be able to recover from the brutal war years.

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Blog Post Posted November 12, 2009, 10:27 am by Bija Gutoff

Cocoa, arm wrestling and opportunity

Annie Garfree, mother of six children, is participating in a Mercy Corps cocoa farming program so she can earn more money and provide for her family. Photo: Nancy Farese for Mercy Corps

Annie Garfree has six children, three daughters and three sons. Only her boys are currently in school. But she's eager to make sure all of them get an education.

Annie is a farmer who's learning new methods of planting, growing and harvesting so she can earn more money and provide for her family. She's one of 25 farmers participating in a Mercy Corps program on a cocoa farm that was started by our Phoenix Fund. More than half of the farmers in this program, and in Liberia in general, are women. President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf has called agriculture the main engine of Liberia's economic development. Mercy Corps is helping Annie and other Liberian women farmers meet their country's own goals by becoming more successful farmers.

I sat with Annie under a tree in the cocoa nursery, talking about her life and cocoa farming. First, she had to rehabilitate the land — clearing the dense undergrowth called "brushing" here in Liberia — with a machete. Then she had to dig out the roots. It's grueling labor, and Annie is tiny, about five feet tall and as lean as a sapling. But she's strong.

I hold up my arm next to hers and challenge her to a mock arm-wrestle, and we both burst out laughing. Before even starting, it's clear who the winner would be.

Annie just got her first batch of cocoa seedlings. She carried the plants to her farm, about a half-hour walk from the Mercy Corps nursery. There, she's learning planting techniques like how to plant banana trees between the rows of cocoa seedlings. The bananas provide necessary protection from the sun while the cocoa plants are getting established, as well as a much-needed cash crop for farmers like Annie until the cocoa trees begin bearing fruit.

"For a long time," says Annie, "I had no hope. Now, with the seedlings from Mercy Corps, and the training I'm getting, I'll be able to pay tuition to send my children to school."

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Blog Post Posted November 11, 2009, 10:26 pm by Kate Dilley

What is public health?

One of the things that people often ask is "What is public health?" I used to say, "everything," without much conviction.

As a public health professional I have always been interested by issues that directly affect people's health. In my graduate coursework, this often meant talking about vaccination campaigns for polio and measles, vitamin and micro-nutrient supplementation including iodized salt and vitamin A, and of course access to clean drinking water and primary health care services. Coming to northern Uganda, I thought that I would be most intrigued by these topics.

Yesterday on a trip to the field, we stopped and inspected school latrines and road construction. While at the school (constructed out of tree branches and a thatched roof with UN tarps over it), I heard a little bit about the very successful child to child education campaign that Mercy Corps conducted along with the latrines. It seems to have provided the children — and, through them, their families — with impressive sanitation knowledge. As we stood at the handwashing stand, two children came to use the latrines and both washed their hands thoroughly, without being reminded. They also had to push through a big group of adults to get to the stand, which they did.

Mercy Corps Youth Program Intern Kate Dilley (standing on pile of dirt, digging) lends a hand to build a road in northern Uganda. Photo: Mercy Corps Uganda

We moved on to look at the road that is being built by the livelihoods team. As we stood on one of the bridges, I was told that this road had been completely constructed by Mercy Corps — it had previously just been bush. The road is just about two cars wide, raised with channels running along the sides to drain water in the rainy season, and constructed out of murrum (gravel like soil selected for its stability). As we drove down a (mostly) smooth road for almost 20 kilometers, I kept thinking about the potential for this road — increased opportunity for jobs and trading of goods, making it easier for students to get to school, and easier to transport people and supplies for improved medical care in the area.

For people to be in good health, so many things must be in place. Without access to proper water and sanitation there is no good health. No roads means no access to medical care. Poor agriculture means no food, let alone a balanced diet including fruit and vegetables. And conflict and disaster means a drastic lifestyle change which can lead to poor mental health.

Mercy Corps is working to address all of these issues, in addition to others in its work around the world.

My view of improving people's health used to be so narrow. Like any good learning experience, my time in Uganda has helped me better understand the complexities of life and the issues and challenges that must be addressed in order to "alleviate suffering, poverty and oppression by helping people build secure, productive and just communities."

In northern Uganda, Mercy Corps is achieving their mission, and I am now further convinced that public health is, in fact, EVERYTHING.

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Blog Post Posted November 9, 2009, 11:30 am by Seth Rue

Questions on the way to Israel

I really didn't plan my first trip to Israel and Palestine to coincide with the publication of National Geographic's special issue on The Holy Land —honest, I didn't. But when I saw it sitting on the shelf at the airport bookstore yesterday morning as I made my way to my departure gate at Portland International Airport, I couldn't help but think it was some sort of sign. I picked up a copy and headed to Gate D7 to try to get in a short nap after a restless night of last-minute laundry and packing.

(Note: Procrastinating with such things is —contrary to popular opinion — an ideal, not only maximizing the freshness of the apparel, but more importantly, when asked at check-in whether your luggage has been out of your control since packing, you can more assuredly respond in the negative.)

After boarding the plane and taking off, I spent the majority of the five-hour flight to New York's JFK airport trying to sleep, and trying not to think of all the things I'd forgotten to pack. I failed at both. I considered starting my blog, as I'd been commanded to do by the Web Team before leaving headquarters. Then, in a wave of inspiration, I considered not doing it and, finding comfort in that option, continued my quest for rest.

After a sleepless flight and a six-hour layover in JFK, I began to really ponder the adventure I was taking. Where was I going and in what light should I consider that place? Was I going to "the Holy Land," or a site of significant humanitarian need where Mercy Corps was offering assistance? Was I going to a place of the utmost historical and religious relevance for billions, or one of seemingly endless frustration and heartbreak? How could I contribute the most value to our offices, programs and partners, while also being completely indulgent in the experience?

In answering these questions, I remembered my cab ride to the airport that morning. The driver knocked on my door at 4:17 a.m. and greeted me, "Radio Cab." He was a man of about 60 years who walked slowly and with labor. He had hearing aids and his hair indicated that he was nearing the end of a long shift. He casually asked where I was headed and I responded, "To Israel, for work."

The rest of the ride felt like a classroom to me, only it was exciting and only cost 20 bucks. The driver, whose name was Paul, shared his understanding of the regional context, his personal and religious views, and deep compassion and respect for "all those Palestinians using non-violence to engage with Israelis and with the world." He spoke with an utter lack of judgment, from a perspective of faith and with unbridled optimism. His example, I thought, would be the point from which I would begin to respond to my own questions.

As I boarded the 767 at JFK that would, God willing, carry me to Tel Aviv, I looked around at my flight companions. Many were Christian Americans traveling in smallish groups, eager to see the land where Jesus walked and preached. There were other tourists and some Israelis returning home. I counted three Palestinians. I tried to divine the purposes of the Israelis and Palestinians in New York, imagining that they were visiting family, or on important business trips. One man, reading from a Bible, excitedly told a listener about the works of Dorcas of Jaffa, and the beauty of the ancient city on the Mediterranean. I wondered if I would be able to see Jaffa. I wondered if I would sense the mystique of the Old City. Would I be able to pray in Al Aqsa? When I was much younger, I knew an Israeli girl named Moriah. I remembered thinking that everything about her was beautiful. If I met her in Israel, would I think the same?

Thanks to a charming row-mate from Russia, I arrived in Tel Aviv after what seemed like far less than 11 hours, and with still no rest, whatsoever. Standing in the lines at passport control — rather, teetering in my haze of fatigue in the lines at passport control — I realized I hadn't settled on my explanation for my visit.

Too much or too little information offered can be a red flag here. I wasn't doing anything wrong, but I knew that the wrong response, or a poorly-timed blink could result in a three-hour interrogation and search. My nerves began to build, starting in my stomach then swirling to my head. I pursed my lips tightly as I watched the woman ahead of me being escorted to the interrogation area. I tried to approach the booth casually, rehearsing my blurb in my head one last time.

Though I knew exactly what I'd be asked, I was caught off-guard when I finally heard, "What's the reason for your visit to Israel?"

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Blog Post Posted November 9, 2009, 1:11 am by Julisa Tambunan

Morning mood

I’ve never considered myself a morning person. I keep telling people how my brain works better after the sun goes down but, really, I think my main problem simply lies in the waking-up-early-morning part. For that reason, people who can start a day at the earliest time — feeling energized by the sunshine like they can rule the world when the morning comes — always amaze me.

And so, yesterday I found myself struck in amazement again.

It was Sunday, seven o'clock in the morning in Penjaringan — the largest slum in Jakarta. I have developed a particular attachment to this place over the last two years that I've worked for Mercy Corps, mostly because the community there has always been successful in making me stand in awe. And, as I dragged my half-asleep body up there through the morning mist, I encountered some even more awe-inspiring moments than ever before.

Through Western Union’s Our World, Our Family (OWOF) project, Mercy Corps provides financial literacy education in the form of a cost-free training for the urban poor — specifically migrants — in several areas in Jakarta. The trainers are people who come from these communities and have taken classes from Mercy Corps educators in preparation for this work.

Iday, a 37-year-old resident of Jakarta's Penjaringan neighborhood, conducts a financial literacy class as part of Mercy Corps' Western Union-supported Our World, Our Family program. Photo: Julisa Tambunan/Mercy Corps

Yesterday morning was the kickoff for this financial literacy training series in one part of Penjaringan — it will be conducted weekly in other selected neighborhoods over the next two months. I came to Penjaringan with Elanvito, the Project Coordinator for OWOF, and a cameraman to document the process as well as interview some of the beneficiaries.

And so came Awestruck Moment No. 1: the trainer, a 37-year-old man named Iday whom I have met few times, greeted me cheerfully as I walked in to the training room. “Good morning, beautiful! Doesn’t the morning look beautiful?” The morning was indeed pretty, the sun shone up so brightly that it burned my sleepy eyes. But it’s his spirit that woke me up.

Iday is one of the few members of his community that is always actively involved in Mercy Corps projects. He volunteered to be one of the trainers for this project because he believed that he should do something for his neighborhood.

“This room is used to park motorcycles in the evening. We repainted it so it could look presentable enough to hold a training. We can’t afford an air conditioning, but there’s a fan and we could open the door like this. I am so excited!” he exclaimed.

That was Awestruck Moment No. 2.

The tiny room was full of participants eager to learn from the early-morning financial literacy class conducted by a Mercy Corps-trained local teacher. Photo: Julisa Tambunan for Mercy Corps

So first, the participants were divided into two classes: the Sunday morning batch and a Sunday afternoon batch. (There will also be Saturday afternoon batch starting next week.) We waited a little longer until all the participants arrived. There were so many people coming, on that very early Sunday morning, that the crowd exceeded the capacity of the room. Soon it became very hot inside, but people just didn’t feel it.

When Iday asked some of the participants to come in the afternoon instead —because almost half of them had not been registered yet — they protested: “We want the morning session because it’s the time when we are still fresh and can think clearly.”

I had my Awestruck Moment No. 3.

So the training began, with about 30 people crammed inside that tiny room, when there were supposed to be only 15 people attending. The training was so lively. Everyone was very enthusiastic and energetic.

It was also so funny, because I was there until the afternoon when the second class took place and, in contrast, there were only five people attending that class! I asked one of them why they chose the afternoon class, and they answered, “The morning class were already full.” Wow.

And Iday was something else. He delivered the training in a remarkable way, especially considering that he'd never facilitated such a class in his life, besides participating in the five-day Mercy Corps workshop that prepared him for this work. When I asked what made him seemingly unstoppable today — especially in the morning class — he softly answered, “Mornings make me feel brand new. I feel like I can conquer the world, and not when the world is sleeping, but when the world is waking up.”

His philosophy — and all those awestruck moments — made me seriously think about changing my sleep pattern.

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Blog Post Posted November 8, 2009, 9:43 am by Bija Gutoff

Liberian people are "tryin' small"

I'm visiting our programs in Liberia, my first trip to the field since I came to work at Mercy Corps two and a half years ago. On this first day in the capital, Monrovia, I'm getting oriented. Tomorrow we'll head out to Buchanan and Tubmanburg to talk to the people we work with. I'm most interested in hearing the stories of the women who are learning new cocoa farming techniques, participating in village savings and loan programs and finding out how to use locally available foods to better feed their children.

In a craft stall, a man in a batik tunic offered objects that once served as currency here — three of the tiny spears equaled a cow, and might form part of a dowry payment. Photo: Bija Gutoff/Mercy Corps

On Sundays most everything is closed here — people go to church or the beach. Children play in the dusty, rutted streets. If they had a soccer ball, I imagine they'd be kicking it around. But in my few hours of wandering around, I didn't see a child with a ball.

Still, there's no shortage of smiles. A group of boys and girls, around 10 years old, ran a small food stand with the ambitious name "Prosperous Business Center." They sold soft rolls, tiny balls of mayonnaise to spread on the bread, Chiclets and roughly square cookies.

In another stall, this one devoted to local crafts, a man in a handsome batik tunic offered hand-painted maps of Liberia (popular souvenirs here), masks and other wood carvings, and long metal nail-like objects that once served as currency here — three of the tiny spears equaled a cow, and might form part of a dowry payment. Here, a t-shirt translates then-candidate Obama's campaign slogan "Yes We Can" to the local patois: tryin' small. It's Liberia's all-purpose expression, signifying — depending on the context — "I'm OK" or "I will" or "I'm getting along" or just a general thumbs-up.

As I prepare to head out tomorrow to visit our programs in Buchanan and Tubmanburg, I'm already feeling absorbed in the stories of so many people here who are working hard to rebuild their ravaged country after 14 years of horrendous conflict. Bit by bit, they're tryin' small.

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